


Feliz Navidad

by Aluxra



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9217058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aluxra/pseuds/Aluxra
Summary: Sombra and McCree have a drink together in a bar on Christmas Eve





	

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone was commenting and making posts about Sombra being in the same bar as Jesse in the "Reflections" comic, I wanted to write my own little something based around it, pulling on all the stuff we've gotten so far about the characters. I genuinely don't know what tags I should add to this, if it requires any; if it does, please leave me a note or a comment and I'll add it. Thank you :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please don't take this too seriously  
> xXx

A sharp rap next to McCree’s ear jolted him awake, and he snapped his head up from the bar, his hand reaching for Peacekeeper even as his eyes fought to adjust to the blaring, fluorescent yellow lights overhead. His mind caught up with his body just as his fingers closed around the grip, his heavy, watery eyes focusing on the bartender as the old man took a sharp step back, the lines on his face deepening as his face twisted in momentary fear.

McCree blinked, his eyes darting around the small, near empty bar, orientating himself eventually. He cleared his throat, releasing his hold on Peacekeeper.

‘Sorry bout that,’ he murmured, wiping his eyes clear of grit.

The bartender eyed Mccree warily under thick, greying brows, picking up McCree’s empty glass. ‘Closing time soon. Last call.’

‘Sure, no problem,’ McCree said, hiding a yawn behind one gloved hand. ‘Gimme another one of those before the road, and I’ll be on my way.’

‘Y’sure you want to do that, son? You’ve already had more than a few,’ the bartender said, pulling the rag from his shoulder and wiping down the bar.

‘So, what’s one more for the night?’ McCree drawled, folding his arms across the bar and fixing his dark eyes on the bartender. ‘You’re the one getting paid.’

‘Fella doesn’t want to get shot in his own bar, ‘specially not this time of year,’ the bartender replied. ‘And you’re a li’l bit jumpy there, son.’

McCree sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the beaten old slip of leather that barely passed as a wallet. He thumbed the few notes he had left, pulling out two and holding them up for the bartender to see. ‘So I’ll make it worth the trouble.’

The bartender glanced between him and the bills between his fingers in silence, when the dull thump of a glass from the opposite end of the bar drew their attention. McCree’s gaze fell on the only other patron in the bar, a woman with a partially shaved head and a fashion sense almost as interesting as his own, who flashed them a smile on purple lips.

‘Ah, come on, it is Christmas, after all,’ she said, sliding out of her seat and sauntering over to them. ‘Season of peace on earth, goodwill to your fellow man, yes? Get the man a drink, we’ll toast it together.’

She hopped onto the stool beside McCree, folding her leg neatly over the other and sliding several bills across the counter towards the bartender.

‘Same as before. Keep the change,’ she added. She flashed another sweet smile, showing off a dimple high on her cheek. The bartender didn’t return it, taking the money without a word and pocketing it, reaching for two fresh glasses.

While he waited for his drink, McCree turned and gave the woman a quick once over from head to toe, tipping his hat to her to hide it: cybernetic enhancements implanted in her head, disappearing under the wide collar of her royal purple coat. Her arms were bare, unsuited for the brisk night air outside; her clothes were loud but fashionable, matching the remaining hair tumbling over her shoulder and her makeup, enhancing her indigo blue eyes. Odd, but not necessarily threatening.

They were usually the ones who posed the biggest threat.

‘Thank ye kindly, miss,’ he said. ‘I appreciate the drink.’

‘No need to thank me; like I said - the season of goodwill, yes? Damn shame for someone to be alone this time of year,’ she replied. The bartender set their drinks in front of them, and she picked hers up, raising it to the bartender with a cheeky drawl. _‘Gracias, señor.’_

He huffed and rolled his eyes in reply, wandering to the other end of the bar to begin cleaning. The woman turned to McCree, raising her glass in a toast. McCree smiled, and did the same, clinking their glasses together.

‘ _Feliz Navidad_!’ the woman said cheerfully, almost song-like, taking a deep drink from her glass.

‘ _Feliz Navidad,_ ’ McCree echoed, sipping his more conservatively. He kept his hat low over his eyes, raw and red from the alcohol and impromptu nap, squinting under the glare of the uncovered light bulbs illuminating the bar, trying to shake off the oncoming light headed dizziness that he usually preferred to chase, forcing himself to keep his attention focused as the woman in front swirled her drink around in her glass.

‘So, you speak Spanish?’ he asked, reverting to the language for privacy from the bartender, even though he was likely out of earshot and couldn’t give a damn about what his customers were talking about. ‘Where you from? Anywhere I’d know?’

‘Born and raised in Dorado, Mexico,’ she answered in kind, straightening in her stool and pushing her shoulders back, loud and proud of her heritage. McCree grinned, her enthusiasm infectious. He rested his elbows on the bar as he relaxed in his seat, nursing his drink.

‘Really? My mother was born there,’ he said.

‘Ha, no way! It must be fate!’ she laughed, clapping him on the back. ‘So what are you doing all the way out here instead of with your family? Business?’

‘Ah, no, ain’t got family anymore,’ he said, shaking his head. He glanced at her, tilting his head in her direction with a small smile. ‘What about yourself? What’s a lovely young woman like yourself doin’ in a place like this?’

She chuckled good naturedly, flicking her dip-dyed hair over her shoulder and shrugging. ‘Well, now, looks like we’re quite alike, mister. Sadly, this girl hasn’t got a family, anymore, she hasn’t in a _long_ time.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, miss,’ he said genuinely, bowing his head. ‘Truly, I am.’

‘It happens,’ she replied, with another shrug. ‘What can you do?’

‘Well, now, I think we can at least toast them,’ he said after a short, quiet pause. He raised his glass again to her. ‘To family, even those who aren’t here with us.’

‘Ah, yes, to the ones lost, and the ones who can still be found,’ she replied, her cheerfulness returning, if slightly muted. They clinked glasses again, the alcohol warming McCree as he gulped it down, no longer able to taste it after countless rounds.

'So, what's your name?' she asked. She nodded to his clothes. 'Or are you more of a man-with-no-name, cowboy?'

McCree had taken another took another draw when it clicked in his mind that they hadn't traded names, and he set his glass down, clearing his throat.

‘Begging your pardon, miss, I forgot to introduce myself,’ he said, chuckling sheepishly and extending a hand to her. ‘M’name’s... John.’

‘John?’ she repeated, cocking her head even as she took his hand and shook it. ‘No second name, John?’

‘Well, now, that’d be telling,’ he said, tipping his hat in semblance of a bow.

‘Ooh, a man of mystery,’ she asked with a cheeky smile and a wink, leaning in to whisper quietly to him. ‘I like it.’

‘Oh, is _that_ why a lovely woman like yourself is doing in a place like this?’ McCree drawled, earning another laugh. ‘Looking for a little bit of danger?’

The woman shoved at his arm lightly in jest, winking conspiratorially. ‘Ha, I think you’ll find, I have more than my fair share of danger to keep things interesting.’

‘Is that right? Sounds to me like we could share a few tall tales between us before the night’s over. Still don’t know your name, though, to put a name to these tales,’ he reminded her as he raised his glass to his lips again. She smiled coyly. Her eyes glinted as she flicked her hair back, tilting her head to one side.

‘Oh, of course, how silly of me,’ she hummed, swirling her glass lightly in her fingertips. ‘My name is Gabrielle.’

McCree’s breath hitched, his throat seizing, spluttering when his drink went down the wrong way. He coughed, setting his drink down and thumping his chest, trying to clear his airways. Gabrielle leaned over and patted his back, her brow furrowing in concern until he sucked in several large, deep breaths and slumped on his seat, clearing his throat.

‘Are you alright?’ she asked.

McCree swallowed, despite the burn in his throat. He nodded, didn’t trust himself to speak, looking down at the countertop without actually seeing it. A solid lump lodged itself in his throat, and he tried to breathe around it, tried to dislodge it with a cough. It remained, along with the heavy weight that settled in the pit of his stomach, rolling its contents dangerously that he thought he might hurl.

‘Hey, hey, John,’ Gabrielle said, leaning in close to him, her hand still on his back. ‘You alright there?’

McCree swallowed around the lump in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and coughing, embarrassed to be so affected by a name. Gabrielle, in the short time he had known her, was nothing like the man McCree once knew; the feminine form of a name and a Mexican heritage was where the similarities started and ended, but still the revelation of her name struck him hard like a sledgehammer, the face of the man he called brother and friend, commander and confidante, rising in his mind's eye, not a day older than the last time he saw him eight years past.

‘Gabrielle,’ he said hoarsely, the name bitter on his tongue. He opened his eyes, rubbing his hand down his face tiredly.

‘Yes?’ She cocked her head, tucking her hair behind her ear as she tried to meet his eye. She bit her lip, her eyebrows meeting in a narrow V with worry. He huffed a sigh, clearing his throat again and took a deep breath.

‘It’s… It’s a beautiful name, Gabrielle,’ he said. She blinked, and smiled, straightening. Her hand fell from his back, the warmth retreating with it, and she crooked her elbow on the bar, running her thumbnail under her fingernails.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I can believe that when it made you literally lose your breath.’

‘Heh, yeah, that it did,’ McCree agreed. He removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair and set it back, folding his arms on the bar. Glancing at the drink in front of him, bile rose in his throat, and he looked away from it.

‘All my friend’s call me Gabi, or Gab,’ she added, ignoring her own drink in favour of focusing her attention on him, spinning in her seat to face him fully. He smiled, more like a grimace, and he slumped forward, bearing his weight on his arms. _Of course they do._

‘That sounds nice,’ he said diplomatically. ‘You have quite a few, by the sounds of it.’

‘Well, you know, you can _never_ have too many friends,’ she hummed, reaching over and resting her hand lightly on his arm, offering him a charming smile.

‘Hey, woah, woah, now,’ McCree said, retreating from her touch, the earlier jesting gone. ‘I think there has been a bit of a misunderstanding here, Gabrielle, this is one tree there ain’t no use barking up, I can guarantee.’

‘Hey, _relax_ ,’ she laughed, pulling back and resting her chin on her hand, her clawed fingers tapping at her chin as she cocked a brow at him teasingly. ‘You’re so _serious_. I promise I just meant friends. You know, you must have a few friends.’

‘Well, I don’t really know what to tell you,’ he said evasively, settling back in his seat again and resting his folded arms on the bar. ‘Always on the move, ain’t exactly much time to be building friendships.’

‘Oh, come on, I doubt that,’ she said. ‘Once you know where to look, you can find friends with no trouble, anywhere in the world.’

‘Here, I’ll show you,’ she said, tapping her fingers against  the side of her head, the thick bands of metal molded to her head lighting up, and she pulled up a series of holoscreens that floated around her like Saturn's rings.

McCree whistled through his teeth at the display in front of him, raising his eyebrows. ‘That’s some mighty fine tech you got there. That how you find all those friends of yours?’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ she hummed in agreement, her fingers flying across the different screens in front of her. ‘I am _all_ about finding new friends. What do you say, we try to find some of yours?’

McCree watched the reverse side of the screens dance with activity, photographs and maps flashing in front of him before disappearing into hidden folders. He shifted, slowly straightening in his seat, feigning nonchalance. His gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing into dark slits, watching her through the blue haze of the screens.

‘Y’know, I appreciate the thought,’ he said slowly, scratching his nose with his thumb and forefinger while his free hand trailed to his belt, resting over Peacekeeper. ‘But I doubt you’d be able to find anyone I know.’

‘You sure?’ She met his eye through the holograms, and smirked. ‘Well, why don’t we try someplace easy first, like, hmm… Gibraltar?’

She pressed the centre of one of the screens as it floated in front of her from her left, the circle expanded and opening up like the lens of a camera, showing a live feed from inside what looked to be an old, semi-abandoned tech-lab. Semi-abandoned, because the camera set the three occupants dead centre of the screen: a bespectacled silver back gorilla in a Christmas sweater sitting beside a cheerful brunette and a freckled red head, laughing over a Christmas meal, unaware of the voyeurs of their holiday meal.

‘Or, maybe, Cairo?’ she said, smiling at his slack face and wide eyes, pulling up photo after photo of a woman with a distinct tattoo under her eye from afar, obviously from surveillance, eating dinner with a group of friends, marching into a warzone in a blue and gold armour, flying across the rooftops with the help of a set of jet thrusters.

‘Nepal?’

More photos, this time of Genji in his cybernetic armour, impossible to determine how he’d aged in the seven or so years since they’d last been face to face. He looked well, strolling alongside an Omnic monk through a busy crowd in the snow.

‘You know, I’m pretty sure _that_ one has a brother,’ she mused, flicking Genji’s files away and bringing up a single photo of a well dressed man sporting an undercut and several piercings that offset his otherwise businessman-like posture. ‘Now _that’s_ a tree I would happily be doing some barking at, don’t you agree?’

‘What the hell are you doing?’ McCree snapped, finding his voice as he pulled his gaze away from the stranger in the photograph and locked eyes with her. Genji had spoke of his brother while they were back in Blackwatch, but McCree wouldn’t know him if he saw him without Genji there. The woman - Gabrielle definitely wasn’t her real name, likely a ploy to mess with him - on the other hand, obviously had found all the connections between them, if the photo was to be believed as Genji’s brother. He began to slide off his stool, Peacekeeper firmly in his grip, ready to be unholstered. ‘What the hell do you want?’

‘Like I said, you can never have too many friends,’ she said, laughing. ‘And you know what, I wouldn’t mind making a new one tonight.’

He grit his teeth, snarling in fury as he lunged to his feet. She stepped back, stretching out her arms and collecting the array of holoscreens around her. Pulling them together, she condensed them into a single, brightly lit screen dominated by a large black and gold logo with green writing stretched out underneath it. McCree stopped short, his gaze falling on the screen in her hands as she pulled it up to eye level.

‘So, what do you say, Jesse McCree?’ she asked, flipping the screen round and leaning forward, holding it between her two fingers so close to McCree’s face his eyes burned against the bright white glare, the words displayed incriminatory on the blank background under the unmistakable logo.

RECALL: ACTIVE

She met his dark, furious eyes through the semi-transparent screen, her painted lips smiling menacingly. ‘How about making a new friend tonight?’

**Author's Note:**

> I actually headcanon Sombra and Jesse as bros, 100% platonic, with the whole honour-amongst-thieves vibe. There's actually a headcanon of mine that's doing fairly okay with notes about how Sombra wiped Jesse's information from the web, hence why she has no info on him in her origins short, so you know, that's more along the lines of my genuine take on their relationship.
> 
> But man, give me the chance to write angst or throw a twist at you and I'm just going to run with it.
> 
> I hope you still enjoyed it, and thank you for reading, my freaky darlings xXx


End file.
